


The Tale of the Warrior General

by Human_I_think_not



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Clay | Dream & Technoblade Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream Backstory (Video Blogging RPF), Dream Smp, Immortal Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Immortal Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Minecraft, Sort Of, Technoblade Backstory (Video Blogging RPF), The Nether (Minecraft), The Tales of the SMP, War, aaaaaaaa, someone help me tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:15:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29355558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Human_I_think_not/pseuds/Human_I_think_not
Summary: This story is a bit of backstory for both Technoblade and Dream. I don't really know how to do summaries, but I swear this is interesting, please read it :D
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	1. Once Upon a Time...

Once upon a time there was a warrior general, who led one of the greatest, most powerful armies of the overworld. He and his men marched from village to village, city to city, country to country, leaving only destruction and wailing in their wake. They never stopped, never stumbled, were never defeated. They were the strongest in the land.

But the men grew older and more tired. Fighting, defeating their enemies, no longer made them feel what it had in their youth. All they truly wanted was to settle somewhere, to have homes and families, to truly live their own lives instead of taking others’ lives. There was dissatisfaction in the ranks. The men grew mutinous. So, though the warrior general knew it was his destiny to fight until he could fight no more and then die with honor, he listened to his men. The next village they found, they did not destroy. Instead, the men found partners in the kind village people. They learned trades. They gave up war and violence in favor of a simple happy life. 

The general was happy for his men, and yet as the years went by he yearned more and more for the glory days of his youth. He convinced himself that if he could have just one more glorious campaign, one more chance to fulfill his destiny, then he could finally be happy. So he gathered up all of his men who had no families, who would still follow him into the heat of battle and come out with bloodied swords and triumphant smiles, and convinced them to follow him one last time.

The warrior general and his men gathered in the town square, armor shining, weapons in hand, ready to march into battle. The villagers and men with families questioned them, asking “What are you doing?” The warrior general answered them, telling of his longing for one last glorious battle, and his men stood with him, ready to fight if the villagers protested. But instead of protesting, the villagers called the village elder, who upon hearing the news, simply nodded and motioned for the men to follow him.

They were brought deep into the caves that ran under the village, to a small alcove in which stood a shining purple portal. All of the men marveled at it and listened to the tales of the elder who spoke of another world beyond their own. A world filled with things that the men could never imagine. A world of _warriors_ who fought among their factions and would sacrifice themselves to protect their homes.

The men were enthralled by the tales, but the jaded warrior general only truly began to feel the excitement and wonder of his men when the elder mentioned the potions that fueled their wars. The warriors of this new world, the underworld as the elder called it, possessed potions. Some were potions of strength, some of weakness, some would cause a man to become invisible to the mortal eye, but the most prized potion was the potion of immortality. This was a potion that would allow a man to live forever if he wasn’t killed, and those who took it were endowed with much greater endurance and strength. When the warrior general heard of this potion, he knew that he _needed_ it. This potion was the one thing that would allow him to fulfill his destiny.


	2. The Underworld

The elder told them of many things, and would have told them of many more had the warrior general not cut him short. The general was desperate. He was aging, losing his skill, losing his edge. He  needed the potion of immortality, and he would do anything to get it. Shoving his men aside, he stepped into the portal. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was in a new world.

The underworld was hot and dry. The ground was made of red stone, and not the lush, green grass that the overworlders were used to. Lava pits were all around, and the whole place seemed to simmer with hatred for what was inside. Some men ran back through the portal, their cowardice driving them back to what they knew. The worthy went on. They trekked through the arid land, slaying the stray beast for food, until at last they came upon a fortress.

The fortress was made of the same red stone as the rest of the landscape, making it appear as if it jutted out of the rock. The warrior general smirked and ignored the cries of his men who wished to attack it. He was determined to find the potion of immortality, and if he had to make allies of enemies to do it, then so be it. The warrior general ordered his men to set up camp outside the fortress, while he went to speak to the leader of these people. His men were confused. Were they not there for battle? For glory? The second in command assuaged their fears with trite assurances and statements that he himself believed. Meanwhile, the general knocked at the gates of the fortress.

His knocking was answered by a creature that he had not expected. They had the appearance of a pig, yet stood in the shape of a man and spoke as one. The warrior general did not let this phase him. He demanded to speak with their leader. The creature who called themself a Piglin thought for a moment before agreeing. He would gain nothing by attacking this strange looking overworlder at the gate. They walked through the fortress to the throne room in which sat the warrior king of the Piglin faction. The general stood before him and demanded the potion of immortality. The king stared at him for a moment before bursting out into hearty laughter at the boldness of this overworlder. The general drew his sword, offended by the king's disregard for his request. The king was still amused, but did not wish to provoke a lengthy war with the leader of the overworlders. He offered the general a deal. If he completed one of the warrior Trials for each of the Piglin factions, then and only then could he ask for the potions that the factions held. However, if he failed in his Trial, then he and all of the overworlders would become indentured servants to the faction for the rest of their lives.

In a decision such as this, consideration is required. The warrior general pondered the deal for some time. He did not doubt his own prowess, but he suspected that the king might sabotage him. If such a thing happened, what would he be able to do? There was no law, he would be powerless to defend his men.  _ Unless  _ he provoked a war. The warrior general smiled. That was the perfect solution, his men had come to this place for war after all. He agreed to complete the Trials, choosing the Trials of Blood. As the name suggested, the Trial of Blood was the most bloody and the most difficult of all the Trials, and yet it was the only Trial which would garner the respect of every Piglin faction. A warrior would fight another warrior from each faction, progressing from the weakest to the strongest. The survivor would be the winner. The Piglin king could not have been more delighted. A mere overworlder could  never complete the Trial without death. He sent the warrior general to train with the weakest of his warriors and laughed to himself, imagining all the ways he could use the overworlders.


	3. The Trial

The general trained with the Piglin warriors for three years before he was ready to begin the Trial. In that time, his men created a village of their own outside the fortress, creating a home and establishing trade with several factions that were a days walk from their home. Even some Piglins who belonged to no faction joined them, living and working together. When the Trial finally began, they all watched with bated breath. The Trial of Blood was kill or be killed, and most who went through it never lived to tell of it. The seven warrior kings prepared for the Trial eagerly, excited to watch the destruction of the overworlder. 

The warrior general did not let the anticipation of those around him faze him. He simply sharpened his sword outside of the arena and grit his teeth, waiting for the fights. Before the trial began, the Piglin king who had challenged the general gave him a gift, as was tradition. The gift was a strength potion. The king saw this gift as a cunning way to ensure the destruction of the general. For the regular Piglin warrior, a strength potion does little except make them more reckless, with a disregard for their safety and only a little bit stronger than they were previously. His plan would have worked, had the warrior general been a Piglin. But instead, he was a human, and the effects of the strength potion on humans was dramatic. He felt strength course through his body at the first drop of the potion on his tongue. He felt as though he could slaughter whole armies with the slightest flick of a finger. His hand tightened around his sword, and he stalked into the arena.

The first Piglin warrior was the weakest, and the warrior general felled him with three precise strokes. Piglins entered the arena to carry away the first body, and the warrior general straightened, barely out of breath. He looked up to the stands, into the eyes of the king, and smiled a crazed, bloodthirsty smile. As the crowd roared, the king felt a bead of sweat trickle down his neck, pinned to his seat by the eyes of his champion. 

The fighting continued, the warrior general slaying the warriors easily, his drug-fuelled, bloodthirsty mind pushing him past his limits. He was greater than the other warriors, he was greater than himself. His body burned, soaked with the blood of those he’d slain. The general cackled madly, his mind focused on one thing and one thing only.  _ Death _ . Death to all who dared oppose him. Finally he was going to fight the final warrior, the last of those who threatened him and all he wanted, all he  Needed . As soon as the last warrior paced into the arena, the general knew he was unlike the others. This was a warrior who used his mind as much as his muscles. The warrior general made the first move, and the clash of their swords was music to his ears. They both flew back and paced, watching one another carefully, analyzing. They clashed again, their swords glancing off one another. They moved in unison, thrusting and parrying, dancing their deadly dance to the music of the crazed screams of the crowd. Their swords clashed one last time, and this time they held them there, each trying to push the others sword out of their hands through sheer force. The crowd watched, their screams muted in the ears of the warriors. As they looked into one another's eyes, their swords finally gave out and shattered. Both warriors moved quickly, the Piglin stabbing the general in the side, while the general stabbed him in the heart and twisted his blade. 

The Piglin warrior staggered back and fell to the arena floor, while the warrior general was cheered and branded by the iron. He barely felt the burning, adrenalin and the last remnants of the potion making him both numb and painfully aware. His heart raced, beating so hard that it could have burst through his chest and he would not have blinked an eye. Though he should have celebrated with his men, allowed himself to be swept up by the crowd, the warrior general wept, for he knew that he would never again face an opponent like the Piglin warrior who he had slain. He could never again feel like the angel of death, in control of who lived or died. He could never again feel so close to death that he  _ was  _ death. It was over. It was all over. But he was wrong, though he did not know it, for the Piglin warrior had three lives and he would live to fight and feel once more.


	4. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these chapters are all so short! I'm not the greatest at knowing where to end one ;-;

The next day, when the warrior general went to the Council of Kings to demand the spoils of victory, he was met with anger. The Piglin kings refused to give him the most precious of their potions, and threatened to wage war on the overworlders if the warrior general dared to even  suggest such a thing again. The warrior general lowered his head, face hidden by his hood, and was silent. The kings began to worry that they had made a mistake in denying the general what he had fought for. When he raised his head once more, there was a dangerous look in his eyes, yet all he did was humbly ask for potions of strength instead. This, the kings agreed to give him readily, for they had little use for a potion that only served to make their men more reckless. The warrior general exited the room, head still bowed humbly, but the moment he walked away from the Council and towards the fortress that held the potions of strength, a cruel and cunning smile spread slowly across his face. The warrior general had a plan.

Planning had begun weeks before, the warriors driven by the knowledge that the kings would never truly respect an overworlder as they would one of their own. The warrior general knocked firmly on the gates of the fortress, knowing that his men were waiting, watching,  ready . He was taken to the scarcely guarded potions room by newly admiring Piglin warriors, and made quick work of the guards, knocking them out and slaughtering them with a few quick strokes. He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction with his own work before he began taking items and placing them in a bag he’d brought with him. He took ready-made potions, ingredients, brewing stands, and after a few moments of contemplation, an enchantment book. Slinging the bag onto his shoulder, he strolled casually out of the fortress, a smirk plastered onto his face. His men would soon be ready to begin what would be the greatest battle in their history.


End file.
